Bolstered by my Sydney Skype date, I redoubled my efforts to find the decent men that must be hiding somewhere in Cumbria. Until this point I had solely been focussing my attention on Tinder but it was time to bring out the big guns… I downloaded Happn. For those of you who don’t know, Happn is location based. Every time you open the app you can see which fellow Happn users have been within 100m of you that day and where exactly this occurred. From there the premise is very similar to Tinder; you make shallow, appearance-based judgement calls and swipe left or right accordingly.
There is, however, an intrinsic flaw to Happn. My currently isolated lifestyle means that time spent within 100m of anyone, let alone fellow Happn users is limited. Trips to the gym and my evening accountancy course provide brief and exciting windows of possible path crosses. It was during a particularly dull class on doubly entry bookkeeping that Maxime’s profile popped up on my Happn radar. Seeing that he was thirty eight I very nearly swiped left but closer examination of his pictures revealed what a catastrophic mistake this would have been. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, THE most attractive man I had seen on my Baewatch so far. I immediately swiped right.
I got home to learn that not only had Maxime and I matched, but that he had also messaged me. As our conversation progressed his good looks were explained - he wasn’t actually from Carlisle. Maxime was Belgian and a private jet pilot. A client had chartered a plane to Carlisle so here he was, stranded for two days before he flew out again. Only two days, I had to work fast! As I cyber-flirted hard, markers began to pop up that perhaps Pilot Bae wasn’t also searching for true love. The photos I received of the large double bed in his hotel room didn’t scream romantic strolls and candle-lit dinners. At this point I would normally run a mile but my new-found addiction to blogging forced me to persevere. Pulling a bold move that pre-blog me would never have dreamt of, I asked if he would like to meet for a drink. He pinged back a reply: ‘Where? In my hotel room?’.
Goodness, he was clearly far more interested in finding my bush than beating round it! Unsure of how to now get out of this situation, I decided that honesty was the best policy. I politely told him that I would love to meet for a drink but I didn’t want him to come under false pretences as it really would be nothing more than a drink. Elements of Tequila Bae snuck in at this point as the language barrier reappeared. He responded, ‘I’m not coming here often… maybe max 3 times a year which means I can’t commit to something serious right now. Sorry, I’m not very good at this sort of thing and get really nervous’. Bloody hell, take off had been rapid: going straight from one-night stand to long-term life goals in 60 seconds flat! Having got this far, blogger-me couldn’t back down now: ‘I think we are both getting ahead of ourselves. Thin White Duke in half an hour?’. I quickly turned off Made in Chelsea, replaced my pyjamas with something a little more respectable, threw on some make up, and dashed into town.
Pilot Bae was already standing outside the bar when I arrived. It quickly became apparent that, contrary to his previous message, Maxime was very well practiced in the art of dating. Before I had even had a chance to offer to buy the first round he had gently steered me to a corner table, ordered us drinks and set up a tab - pretty damn smooth! This performance gave me the chance to study him more closely. He was tall, tanned, chiselled, exceedingly well dressed and had noticeably attractive hands. His lilting French accent only added to his charm (Ok, I know his accent was technically Flemish but that doesn’t sound as romantic).
I was worried that having quizzed him on his super-cool profession and all the celebrities he flies around we would run out of things to talk about but Pilot Bae also took an active interest in sport and had studied at music school, playing the drums and piano in his spare time. He even had a baby grand piano at home. I suppose if I was a fully-fledged adulting 38 year old I probably would too! According to Maxime however, his dating flight path to date had not been without its turbulence; the pilot life was apparently a lonely one. He confessed that he struggled to hold down relationships due to the common misconceptions about pilots and air-stewardesses, with partners worrying what he got up to when away on business. Bloody hell, I should have set an emotional baggage allowance! Starry eyed by the mood lighting and attractive man this confession was coming from, I took it all in hook, line and sinker. A true gentleman: Pilot Bae walked me to my car at the end of the evening, kissed me on both cheeks, and disappeared into the night.
I got home to a message waiting for me saying how much Maxime had enjoyed meeting me and that he would love to take me to the Lake District when he was next in Cumbria. On reflection, Pilot Bae’s story didn’t really add up: his very forward cyber small talk and super slick bar performance suggested that he was not as nervous and bad at dating as he had said. To be fair, if I was that attractive and spent my life jetting between European cities I would have a different man on ice in every one of them! The only slight detail that Maxime had failed to mention was discovered through a post-date social media stalk. His Instagram proudly displayed him with two little blonde cherubim, his niece and nephew perhaps? Ah, the caption read #singledad… Closer inspection revealed that I am in all likelihood closer in age to his children than I am to Pilot Bae himself. I’m not going to lie though, if Pilot Bae did ever message to say he was back in Cumbria, I would take off to the Lake District with him in a flash!